


Gotham Snapshots

by shobogan



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU - Comicverse, The Question (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Elseworlds, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, OT3, Pre-Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 7,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shobogan/pseuds/shobogan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets about the Batfamily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mint Chocolate Chip | Babs/Dinah

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Mint Chocolate Chip  
>  **Characters:** Barbara/Dinah  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Summary:** Barbara needs some cheering up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara needs some cheering up.

“You’re moping.” 

Barbara raises her chin from her hands, turning her head to give Dinah an indignant look. “I don’t _mope_.”

Dinah looks far from convinced as she wags a spoon at her from the dining room. “Uh-huh. Come here, we’re having some mint chocolate chip.”

Barbara rolls her eyes, but - well, Dinah did go to the trouble of bringing it, and it is from the best ice cream place in Gotham. She can stare at old footage later. 

“You know, it’s _okay_ if you don’t solve a mystery in one day.” Barbara scowls as she accepts the offered spoon. 

“This isn’t a game of Clue, Dinah. Lives are at stake.” 

Dinah rolls her eyes as she dives into her ice cream. “Yeah, usually mine. I know the stakes, but you can’t expect yourself to be some omnipotent - “

“Oracle?” Barbara smirks as she raises a spoonful to her lips. Dinah rolls her eyes even harder.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. I could just take my ice cream and leave.”

Barbara presses a hand to her chest, mouth agape. “You wouldn’t.”

Dinah raises her chin. “I would! And - ” She reaches into a massive handbag, and pulls out a makeshift box set. “You wouldn’t get this, either.”

Barbara really does stare, this time. “Is that the complete series of Babylon 5?”

Dinah’s grin redefines ‘smug’. “Think I can pull you away from the monitors long enough for a marathon?” She wags a figure at Barbara’s immediate hesitation. “You need a break. You won’t do anyone any good like this.”

“You don’t even like Babylon 5.”

Dinah rolls her eyes again, before swooping over the table to kiss Barbara on the nose.

“I like _you_ , remember?”


	2. For The Moment | Pre-Crisis Barbara/Kara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set several months after [Bereft](http://archiveofourown.org/works/187448).

Barbara isn’t re-elected. It’s not a surprise, really; it rarely is, when you know how to listen, and that’s one of the first things Barbara learned.

She could have secured her position by being a bit more lenient, a bit more conservative, but that would have been a betrayal of herself, of the reasons she ran in the first place. 

All the same, the weight of disappointment is heavy in her chest as she strolls Gotham’s streets. She could have done so much _more_.

She’s so distracted she doesn’t notice Kara until the other woman is striding beside her, linking their arms together. A surprised laugh tumbles from her lips, and for the first time today, her smile is genuine.

“Hey there.” 

“Hey yourself.” As always, Kara is a glimmer of brightness in the dim alleys, even in grey sweats and that silly wig. “I thought you might want some company.”

Only because it’s you, Barbara doesn’t say, but Kara hears her anyway.

They walk in silence for a while, quiet comfort that slowly but surely eases the heaviness away. 

“You can still make a difference, you know,” Kara says. Her voice is light, but her gaze is intent as she looks at Barbara. “Not just as Batgirl, either.”

Barbara considers her, for a moment, before she smiles. 

“Yeah. I know.” 

For the moment, she feels like she can do anything in the world.


	3. Stray | Cass/Steph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin is enthralled with Catwoman's young partner.

She fights like no one Robin’s ever seen.

No, that’s not quite right. Shiva moved like that, all swift grace and sharp edges - but Stray never goes for the kill. She’s not even brutal with her enemies, whoever they are.

This time it’s a bunch of muggers ganging up on some college girls. Robin lets Stray do her thing while she comforts them and ushers them off to safety; soon enough, silence replaces pained grunts and dull thumps.

Robin turns to find her kneeling, tying up the would-be crooks with quiet efficiency.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be a bad guy.”

Stray glances up from her work, offering a light shrug. “Relative.” Okay, that’s true enough. Catwoman’s more like Robin Hood, lately, and she helped a ton after the Cataclysm. Robin is pretty sure that’s when she found her new sidekick.

So she might as well help Stray drag these jerks into the alley.

The girl really doesn’t look like she should be able to drag two hundred pounds, even covered head to toe in grey and black kevlar. Robin’s at least a head taller, and broader all around, and they finish at the same time. 

So they stand there, facing each other beneath flickering street lights. Robin thinks she can make out a faint smile beneath Stray’s cowl. 

“I should, you know, go call the cops.” 

Stray nods. “Yes.” 

Robin hesitates, before turning; it only takes that moment for Stray to rush her, and Robin tenses for a strike that never comes.

Instead, Stray lightly grips her arms, staring intently into her face. “I like you,” she whispers. “I don’t think - that I should. But…I do.”

Robin’s mouth has gone completely dry, and all she can do is nod. She has a feeling lying won’t get her anywhere, and the smile she _knows_ is lighting Stray’s face right now is totally worth it, somehow. 

That’s when Stray slowly reaches back, and pulls back her cowl, just to the nose. Her lips are dry and cracked, her cheek bruised, and it’s the most attractive sight Robin has ever seen.

She leans forward, gently pressing a kiss to lips that curve against her own.

Then, in a flash, Stray is gone.


	4. Stowaway | Jason/Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain pirate finds some scrawny kid stowing away on his ship.

He should just throw him overboard.

That’s Jason’s first thought when he finds the boy in the cargo hold, methodically ruining crates in search of food.

But then the kid looks at him. Can’t be much younger than Jason, really.

His eyes are wide and bright, completely overwhelming his pale, narrow features. He doesn’t look surprised, or afraid. If anything, he looks frustrated.

“I guess you’re not here to offer me lunch.”

Jason suppresses a laugh. He’s pretty cocky for someone all skin and bones. “Thought we had a rat down here.”

The boy shrugs his skinny shoulders; the thin, tattered cloth doesn’t do much to hide his frame. “I was trying to be quiet. I guess it didn’t work.”

“Nope.” Jason isn’t often thrown off balance; it’s one reason he’s so good in a fight, one reason the captain keeps him around. But this kid, he’s calm as fuck in the middle of a pirate ship. “You really picked a shitty place to stow away.”

Another shrug, and Jason’s eyes can’t help but follow the movement. “Beggers can’t be choosers.” Kid doesn’t look like a begger, though. Those were fine clothes, once. Seems like he has all his teeth. No scars or callouses that Jason can see.

He must have noticed Jason studying him, and he flashes a wry smile. “It’s kind of a recent profession.”

“What, the family kick you out?”

His smile fades, leaving something blank and cold. “The family died.”

An orphan. Just like -

Oh, fucking -

“There’s better food on the main deck.” Finally, a glint of surprise; his lips part, just slightly, as he stares up at him.

Jason turns away. “Well? Hurry the fuck up, I’m not carrying you.”

He glances back to see the boy scramble upwards, looking like he hasn’t quite grown into his limbs.

“What will the crew say?”

“Captain owes me a favour.” Who knew saving a silly bird could be so rewarding? “Just stick with me.”

Suddenly the kid is right next to him, worn silk brushing against canvas breeches. “Sir yes sir.” There’s that cockiness again, and Jason rolls his eyes and pretends he’s not smiling.

“Jason is fine.”

That gets a genuine smile. It makes him look - softer, somehow. Suddenly, ridiculously, Jason feels the urge to make it happen again.

“I’m Tim.”


	5. You Were | Tim + Steph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim never told Steph how he dealt her death.

Sometimes, he just watches her. She can feel his eyes on her, when she laughs and runs and especially when she trains, that silent intensity that always made the back of her neck itch. 

Finally, one day, she tosses him an irritated glance, and he looks sheepish; she gets a glimpse of the cheerfully awkward boy he used to be. She resists the urge to kiss him, because they aren’t there yet, and might never be again. 

Besides, she’s supposed to be annoyed. “If you’re so worried I’m gonna mess up - “

“It’s not that.” He can’t quite meet her eyes as he speaks. That’s more like the Tim she knows now. 

“Then what is it?” Her voice is softer now, gentle as she comes closer. 

He looks up, and she’s afraid that wall he’s built so carefully will have slammed down again - but no, she sees guilt and grief, plain on his face.

“When I thought you were gone...I kept thinking - why didn’t I appreciate it more? Your voice. The way your body moved. …Your roundhouse right.” The slightest of smiles, which she haltingly returns. 

“I missed it. All of it. Not that I ever - I didn’t even fight for your case, Steph, I didn’t - ” 

“Hey, who wants a giant reminder of their dead girlfriend around, huh?” Her voice only trembles a little. She’s surprised when Tim fiercely shakes his head.

“You weren’t just my - you were _Robin_. But all of us just tried to forget. And then…it turned out you were just the first.” They’re back now, the ghosts that darken his eyes and dog his steps, but finally, finally there’s an opening into all the pain he wraps himself in. 

She can’t kiss Tim Drake, but she can hug him.


	6. Run| Barbara + Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Barbara in World War 1. Warning for amputation.

Her first thought, when she awakes in the vigilant chaos of the medical tent, is that she’s been discovered. She can’t remember why she’s here, but she knows she has to get out, has to – 

She can’t feel her legs. When she looks down, she sees stumps wrapped hastily in blood-soaked bandages. 

Suddenly, nothing else seems to matter. Not the hoarse cries from the crowded beds, not the memories of machine guns tearing through her as she pushes her men aside, not the fraught nurses too busy to stare. 

Exhausted by agony and despair, she drifts into fitful sleep. 

She can hear her father's voice, telling her to always keep fighting; her mother's, telling her she can be anything she wants. She hates to fail their memory, but sometimes it's just not true. 

Sometimes...

 

She wakes again to the light, familiar footsteps of Private Grayson. 

Everyone knows young Richard, the boy who ran away from the circus and found a war, the charming orphan who dances ruthlessly across the battlefield. Barbara herself taught him to shoot, politely ignoring his obvious attraction to his unit commander. So many thought he’d be dead come the new year, but he’s proven himself again and again. 

She’s the one whose life, for all intents and purposes, has ended. She’ll be placed under military arrest, that much is certain. She can hardly run away. 

Still, her voice is level when she speaks, if dry and rough. “Hello, Boy Wonder.” She chuckles bitterly when he salutes. “No need for that any more.” 

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but he speaks firmly. “I’d have to disagree – ma’am. And I’m not the only one.”

She suddenly realises she’s been transferred; the tent is quiet and bare, and the only medical officer – ah. Rachel Roth. She’d made quick friends with Dick – quick for her, at least – and Barbara had always admired her calm intensity. 

Grayson steps aside, then, and Barbara immediately recognises Hal Jordon, one of their fighter pilots. She knows Dick is close with his enlisted nephews, Roy and Kyle, but her mind, dulled with drugs and shock, is slow to comprehend what it all means.

“The plane is ready for you to steal.” Jordan’s words are hushed, but almost amused. “You’ll need to carry her, Grayson.” 

A shy smile touches his lips, one she’s always found endearing.

He strides forward, leaning down. “If you don’t mind…your name isn’t Roger, I think?”

She finds herself smiling up at him. She knows she won’t make a habit of being carried, but she can stand this exception. 

“Barbara. Call me Barbara.”


	7. Aerie | Barbara/Dinah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steampunk. Three sentences.

There is a voice in her head, hijacking sight and sound as it sets her free to soar.

The gears of her wings groan, and rust reddens the air, but she is free; free to find her saviour through the maze of machinery she has built.

Steam warms her face as her hands settle on copper and brass, and she smiles against lips that never move as laughter fills her head.


	8. Maelstrom | Barbara/Dinah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _and while i spend these hours, five senses reeling / i laugh about this world with my satellite eyes_

She sees the world in so many ways. The storm of life seeps through her sensors, calling her into the maelstrom. She hears the stuttering shouts of ancient radio signals, sees the flickering images of captured cameras. Sight and sound are at her fingertips.

Yet they are distant, distant as the stars she once called friends.

She does not feel the winds of war whipping her face. She doesn’t smell the lightning. She cannot taste the damp in her mouth.

It’s easier. Storms are wild, wounding things. She has felt blood on her hands as pulses faded, smelled the rot of death and salt of tears, tasted filth and bile.

It is all an echo, now, as she watches.

It is not difficult, to sit apart. It is not such a burden, to see the worst of the world. Because she is not alone.

She can hear the softest laugh from miles a way, meant only for her. She can see a hidden smile and a glint in narrowed eyes.

When she is close, closer than anyone else, that laughter tickles her neck, and that smile curves against her lips. She smells the sweat of the storm, tastes the scars it has left in its wake.

She lay there, and she closes her eyes, and she sees the world at its best.


	9. Dandelions | Cass/Jason/Steph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a visit that's long overdue.

He hasn’t come here for a long time. The boy she raised, he figured, was just as dead and gone. What did she need with a ravaged echo?

But they wanted to go. They’re beside him now, squeezing hands calloused and stained with the life he chose. In her free hand, Stephanie holds a bouquet of dandelions.

They could never afford proper ones, so he used to pick them for her. They made so many wishes that never came true.

A new family kneels with him now, and as Steph lay down the dandelions, Cass whispers, “Thank you. For your son.”

Jason closes his eyes, and in silence he forgives her for never telling him. In silence he tells her she will always be his mother.

In silence he tells her that he has finally found something like peace. In Stephanie’s brazen laughter, in Cassandra’s quiet tranquillity, in they way they fight and dance and fly.

“She’d like you, I think,” he murmurs to them both, and closes his eyes as their arms encircle his waist.

They sit at Catherine Todd’s grave until night falls, and Jason promises her that he’ll see her again.


	10. Mnemonist | Barbara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara remembers everything.
> 
> Almost.

Nothing is ever forgotten. Images sink into her mind like ink into skin, portraits of her  
past that never fade.

It gives her an edge no weapon will, and it can’t be taken away from her. Brutal crimes, vital clues, secret files; they’re stored forever behind her eyes. 

She remembers the way Jason fought, unbridled passion driving every strike. She remembers the way Sarah walked, each and every stride as brisk and confident as the last. She remembers the way Stephanie flew through smog and stars with Cassandra. 

She will never forget her mother’s smile.

She’ll never forget his, either. 

 

Sometimes, when Barbara sits high above the city’s spires, she almost remembers. It’s an ache in her chest that she can’t quite place, a wistful thought that she can’t quite grasp. 

As she stares at the sinking sun, the breeze against her lips almost feels like a playful kiss, the warmth on her skin a tender caress. 

It’s only for a few moments, stolen from a time that never was. The breeze dies, and the warmth fades, and she is alone in the dark. 

She searches the sky for a familiar smile, but all she can see are dead stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's Kara she's not remembering.


	11. Secrets | Barbara/Helena/Dinah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena/Barbara/Dinah, secrets.

She knows Barbara has her secrets. The woman who knows everything shares little. Even now, even with the people she loves.

At first Helena thought it was unfair. Dinah had soothed her with soft words and softer kisses, and she never brought it up with Barbara.

Part of her, after all, knows that this thing they’ve built will shatter at the faintest blow. She will be left alone again, as she always is. 

Some nights, she will trace the bat on that old costume and revel in the knowledge that some secrets are still her own, that they will be hers to keep long after everything else is gone.

So it’s all right if the lips that trace her neck at night leave so much unsaid. Helena has her unspoken history in her closet, and Barbara can have hers.


	12. Surveillance | Barbara/Dinah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching her sleep.

She tells herself she’s just checking in. 

That’s why there are cameras in Dinah’s home, after all - just in case. In their business, danger can strike at any moment. It can shatter dreams and breed nightmares.

It’s not because of the way Dinah sprawls on her bed, covers tossed aside, golden slip of a thing barely covering her in the dim light. It’s not because of her soft, peaceful features, untouched by fury or guilt or fear. It’s not because the sight of her, safe and secure, calms Barbara’s mind and warms her chest.

No. 

She’s just checking in.


	13. Procedural | Barbara/Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara's a criminologist, Dick's a cheeky vigilante, Jim is concerned.

"I’m just saying, Barbara, cops and vigilantes – "

"I’m not a cop, dad, I’m a criminologist." 

He gives her that look, that weary, exasperated glare he gets whenever she argues semantics. It’s gotten quite a work out over the years.

She’s no more daunted by it than she was as a teenager fresh off the train to Gotham.

"You and Batman have a good working relationship. Relatively speaking. And Nightwing has been a great help, turns out he can do more than backflips." And he makes her laugh. Not many people make her laugh, any more.

"I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Barbara." 

She cocks an eyebrow. “Through the mask?” 

Here comes that glare again. “And you look right back. It’s not - “

"Safe, sensible, and secure? As Gordons always are. It’s why we’ve gotten so far, after all." 

Her father sighs, and shakes his head, and she just catches a glimpse of a smile. 

The next night, Barbara will debate crime theory with Nightwing, and he’ll teach her a double back flip, and together they’ll make the world a better place.

One day, she’ll even tell him she knows his name.


	14. Choices | Tim + Steph + Leslie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is there when Leslie decides to take Stephanie away.

"Was I ever really Robin?"

It breaks his heart, and not just her questions - was it a test, was it a ploy - but her voice. Weak and wan and wavering, nothing like Stephanie ever was or ever should be.

But it is, because she’s dying, and it’s all their fault. All _his_ fault.

His hand clings to hers as he tells her that yes, of course she was Robin, and she mattered, and she was magnificent.

She tells him she wasn’t. That she failed. 

Something like rage burns in his chest, tearing it apart from the inside. She can't see it, though; her eyes have closed.

He starts when he feels Leslie’s hand on his shoulder, and he stares up at her with wide eyes. She looks so kind beyond the tears, why does she looks so kind?

"It’s all right."

"No it isn’t." His voice cracks, and he hates it because Bats don’t do that, but he isn’t one anyway, might never be again. "She’s going to die. She’s - I love her and she’s going to die and if I’d just - "

"Hush. Come sit with me."

He stares at her, before letting his hand drop, and it hurts that Steph’s is too limp to hang on, to make him stay. He follows Leslie to a spare bed, letting weak, aching legs finally crumple as he slumps down on it.

Again, Leslie’s hand goes to his shoulder, and he wants to jerk away from the gentle touch, because he doesn’t deserve it, because Stephanie is -

"She’s not going to die, Timothy."

The words ring violently in his ears, tearing through his thoughts and leaving chaos in their wake.

"I - what? You said - she looks - the -"

"All to make Bruce think so." Leslie squeezes his shoulder, and if it aggravates his bruises he doesn't notice. "It’s very bad, and it will take her a long time to recover. But I can save her. I just don’t want him to know that."

Something like hope blooms inside his chest, shining through the desperate confusion. "But…" His mind works feverishly through the haze of grief and guilt. "You want it to hurt."

After a moment, she nods. She looks very tired. “He’s done a great disservice to this girl. I think we both know that.” Slowly, reluctantly, Tim nods. “I want him to think twice before he puts another person - another _child_ \- through this kind of hell.”

"But…why tell _me_?" Now it’s Leslie who looks surprised, and a little bit guilty.

"I almost didn’t, before I realised how horrid that would be. You - you didn’t put her here, Timothy." Her gaze turns hard. "I hope I can trust you to keep our secret. Between the three of us."

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes when he asks what he must. “Where are you taking her?”

She considers him for a moment, and then, “Africa.”

He’s about to make a vital decision, one he can never take back. He’s already decided, of course, which crimes he’d be committing. He’d be working against Batman, against Bruce, betraying trust built over years, trust build in sweat and blood and tears.

It’s not what a Bat would do. 

_Was I ever really Robin?_

"We should let her mother know, too."


	15. Remembrance | Pre-Crisis Barbara/Kara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembering their mothers.

Mother’s Day. 

She spends it with her dad, when she can, but he’s working today - not a thing she can begrudge, not without being a hypocrite. She’ll still patrol tonight.

But she feels awfully lonely, walking through the crowded streets. (They don’t go to the cemetery, not today. They visit the places she loved most, and make new memories.) She’s headed to an old café - the same people have worked their for years and years, and they still remember. 

Later, she’ll tell herself it was due to distraction. There’s no other way she wouldn’t have sensed someone getting close, wouldn’t have anticipated the light touch on her elbow. 

But she can’t be annoyed, when she sees who it is. 

"Hey, Linda." That’s who Kara is, in public, with her bright pleated skirts and straight black hair. Somehow, it never feels like a lie. 

She smiles back, soft and bright, and Barbara suddenly feels warmer. 

"I thought you might need some company." 

"So you flew to another city?" Her tone is touched and amused and exasperated, all at once. Kara just grins, nodding as she slips her arm under Barbara’s.

"Where are we going?"

Barbara leans into her, just a little. “Mom’s favourite café.” 

"She was a coffee person too, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. I used to steal sips from her mugs." It’s hard to scold a kid when you’re laughing. Barbara often used this to her advantage. "I still have them all."

Most people probably wouldn’t have caught the wistfulness that creases Kara’s smile, but it makes Barbara’s heart sink.

Kara doesn’t have anything left.

Nothing except for her memories.

"When we get there - tell me about Alura?" They’ve talked, before, about the people they’d lost. It’s not something Kara likes to dwell on, she knows.

Her eyes go wide, and Barbara worries, for a moment, that she’s done the wrong thing.

But then the smile returns. “I’d like that.”


	16. Insense | Barbara + Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning to understand each other. 
> 
> Set early in Cass's _Batgirl_.

Words mean a lot to Barbara. More now than ever - they are her armor, her weapons, her cowls and batarangs - but she always took comfort in them. In knowledge and fantasy, in debate and defence. 

It’s difficult, sometimes, to connect with someone silent, someone who speaks in glances and gestures. She’s taught Cassandra a few words, but the girl’s just as impatient as she can be. She doesn’t like sitting still, staring at alien shapes - not when she could be doing something.

And she knows that Cass can see her exasperation, her annoyance. Whether she understands, that’s something else, and Barbara has no idea how to tell her.

She remember sitting on that bench, imploring Cass to tell her what was wrong, cursing herself when she ran away. Of course she can’t. 

"Sad." 

Her shoulders jerk as her head whips round. No one else sneaks up on her any more - Batman, maybe, now and again. She can’t help but smile a little, proud despite herself.

Then the word sinks in, and the smile fades.

"A little." It’s not something she likes to admit, but there’s no point lying to Cass. It’s as refreshing as it is daunting, really. 

Cassandra glances at her abandoned desk, and her shoulder slump a little. “Sorry.”

"It’s not your fault." The words rush from her mouth, aching to reassure, because it’s not. It’s not her fault she can’t speak the way Barbara’s used to.

But she doesn’t look convinced. After a moment, Barbara reaches out to take her hand.

"It’s hard, for me." She knows Cass won’t know what she’s saying, but she hopes she’ll get the gist. "I feel like I don’t know you, not the way I want to.” 

It’s hard to care about her, she’d said to Bruce; she didn’t mean it, not exactly, but there’s a distance she doesn’t know how to cross.

But that isn’t Cassandra’s problem, or it shouldn’t be. 

"I’m - I want you to learn my language so you can tell me who you are. What you like, what you want, what you need." Her brow furrows. "But I should be learning yours, too." 

Cass just looks at her, for a moment. When she pulls her hand back, Barbara’s heart sinks - but then Cass wraps her arms around her. It’s only a moment before Barbara returns the embrace.

"I care about you a lot," she whispers, and hopes Cassandra can see. 

The embrace tightens, and Barbara smiles.

They’ll learn. Together.


	17. Elution | Jason Todd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Hood needs to do his laundry, too.

"Eddie! Come here, lad!" It takes him a moment to realise who she’s talking to; he uses all sorts of names, for all sorts of reasons. (Sometimes, Red Hood seems like the only one that fits.)

But he smiles, as he clutches his laundry to his chest. (This way, she won’t see what the tears mean, what the stains are.)

"Hey, Mrs. Braden." He keeps his voice light as he strides inside; he doesn’t let his eyes dart side to side. 

She shakes her head, white curls bouncing round her head. “It’s Nora, dear, and you know it.” 

Jason dips his head. His hair is falling into his eyes again. “Yes, ma’am.”

"What have you been up to?"

He considers, filling the silence by dumping his poor, abused clothes into the wash. 

"Not much. Studying, mostly."

Nora tsks at him. “A handsome boy like you, you should be out on the town!”

A low, dark chuckle escapes his throat, and he almost chokes on it. “I, um. Exams, you know.” He can barely remember exams. Good riddance, anyway.

Nora’s shaking her head. He really hopes she’s not going to set him up with her granddaughter or something. 

Not that it would be bad, for anyone but him. Nora is nice - friendly, without being too nosy. And when she talks about her family, it’s with a joyful warmth that makes his chest ache.

Sometimes she brings him treats; always things left over when you bake, she says. 

It would remind him of Alfred, if he let it.

"Safer at home, anyway." His tone is a bit grimmer, now, as he starts the machine. Nora’s gaze darkens as she nods.

"Aye, that’s true enough." A low, sad sigh. "Didn’t used to be this way." But then she smiles. "At least someone knows how to bring their own up right." 

He ducks his head again, and hopes it hides the wince. “Thanks. My folks try hard.” His mother did, anyway. Sometimes he can believe she wouldn’t be disappointed. 

Nora is sizing him up, though. She does that sometimes, and he wonders if she can see right through him.

She never says anything, though. Just gives him this warm, sad smile and moves on.

Maybe she just figures no one grows up scarless in Crime Alley.

He knows she didn’t; she lost her youngest daughter, a few years ago. Had an idea who did it, too. 

It didn’t take too long to confirm. He’s not walking around any more.

She has three more. They got out, she says, that’s the thing.

Sometimes he wants to ask her why she stayed, but he already knows. Home is home.

And sometimes, when she squeezes his hand and smiles up at him, he remembers how that’s supposed to feel.


	18. Swish | Barbara + Cass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara takes Cass shopping.

Barbara is excited, at first, when Cass asks to go shopping. It’s not that she’s fond of it herself, particularly - she orders most of her clothes online, nowadays - but it means something important.

She’s focusing on something besides Batgirl. On something that’s just hers.

So she’s grinning, as she drives them across the city. Gotham has most of the big stores, of course, but she always liked the smaller places. Cass is quiet, but she’s used to that.

When they make it inside, Cass steers her into a chair, presses a finger to her lips, and darts off. Good; she wants to make her own decisions. Anyway, she brought a book.

Barbara’s deep in the midst of ancient Greek poetry when she hears those light, limber footsteps. When she looks up, she knows she looks stunned.

The feather boa is the first thing she notices. Then the sheer, sparkling top. Then the artfully tattered pants, at least one size too big. Then the golden belt, sporting a screaming eagle.

And, somehow, she found the hair gel - free samples? - and stuck her sleek dark hair up like a porcupine. Actually, it reminds her of - 

"…Did you get fashion advice from your brothers?"

Cass’s nod is so earnest, so hopeful. Barbara pushes away all of her horror; she’s gotten better at adjusting her body language, though she usually doesn’t bother. 

"They’d be very proud." And it’s not a lie, really. They’d be pretty chuffed, knowing she took them so seriously. Might even like it, knowing them.

"Really?" Cass is beaming, now.

"Really." It’s not hard to smile back. "Let’s go pay."

Maybe she can do some gentle damage control later.


	19. A New Dawn | Helena/Renee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _things you said after it was over_
> 
>  
> 
> Renee and Helena figure something out.

"We can’t keep doing this." Helena’s words on low and soft as the sun sets. They’re sitting on the rim of the lighthouse (Vic’s lighthouse), slouched against stones smoothed with decades.

Renee tears her gaze away from the riot of clouds and colour (they always remind her that the world is beautiful, and the dawn will come again), and doesn’t quite meet Helena’s eyes. “Doing what?”

A huff of laughter, chased by a grimace. Helena’s chest is still taped up from their last skirmish. “You know damn well what I mean.”

Renee’s shoulder slump, a little, because she does. Wilful obtuseness has become a defence mechanism; maybe it comes with the hat. “Yeah, I do.”

The violence leave them heady and breathless, the desperate passion surging through their veins. It’s only natural, really, that it leads to frantic kisses and rough caresses. 

But it never goes further than that. Inevitably, they break apart and slink into separate rooms, telling themselves over and over why it’s foolish and reckless and futile.

"I’m sorry." Another laugh, because god knows Helena never learns, and that really shouldn’t be so endearing. Her friend - and God, how she doesn’t want to lose that - shakes her head. 

"We’re both being stupid." Renee doesn’t let herself flinch; she only nods, because it’s true. She needs to stop chasing things she shouldn’t have. 

"I haven’t dated anyone in - well, according to Dinah, "sometime near the stone age". So I’ve probably forgotten how to start." 

Wait.

Renee knows she’s staring, handily gob-smacked. That’s not how this conversation was going to go, that’s not what she’s been preparing herself for. 

Helena is smirking at her, smug and rueful all at once. “She and Barbara gave me a wake up call. Which is hilarious, considering how long it took them to even - ” She shakes her head. “The point is - you deserve better. And so do I.”

Renee is still staring, dumbfounded, and Helena laughs at her again, and this time she joins in. 

Helena reaches out to her, and it’s so easy to catch her hand and twine their fingers, rough and sweaty and aching. 

"You think this - this _thing_ we have is worth - ” Risking more heartbreak, more mistakes, more loss.

Helena squeezes her hand, eyes glittering in the dying light. “I think _you’re_ worth it.” 

Renee feels herself smile. “Okay. Want to catch lunch tomorrow?”

"Hell yes, I know this great Italian place…"

Time for a new dawn.


	20. Something Better | Steph + Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _thing you said that made me feel like shit_
> 
>  
> 
> Steph and Tim have a long overdue conversation.

It’s been a long night. Sometimes it’s just like that - everyone wants to be a criminal mastermind at once. Batgirl and Red Robin had to coordinate. They’re exhausted, dragging themselves into Robinson park to slump into the benches. 

Tim looks at her, after his customary perimeter check, smiling like he’s fourteen again. ”We still make a good team, huh?” 

Her lips purse, just for a second, before the smile. Of course he notices, because he’s only oblivious when she doesn’t want him to be. 

"Steph?" His voice is soft, and concerned, and _sweet_. She remembers why she forgave him all the time, or convinced herself there was nothing to be angry about. So she shrugs, shakes her head, waves her hand - 

But no, he won’t let her. “Come on. Did I do something wrong?”

She can’t help but laugh. It makes her chest hurt; she’s pretty sure her ribs are bruised. 

There’s no going back now, so she sighs, sitting back against the worn wood and staring him in the eyes. (Or as much as she can, with that stupid cowl.) “Tim - the first time you saw me in this outfit you said I didn’t deserve it.”

He’s about to protest - those weren’t his exact words, after all - but she holds up a hand. “That’s what you _meant_. And I know you apologised, later, and I appreciate that, _really_ , but - ” Her shoulders slump, a little. “It’s been years, you know? And I’ve never been good enough.”

It shouldn’t still hurt like this. It’s _different_ , now; no one tells her to go home any more. No one tells her it’s not her right, not her place, not her calling. She’s Batgirl. They’re equals.

He’s going to argue again, she knows it, and her voices rises a little. “I had to prove to you that I could do this. Like everything I did as Spoiler wasn’t enough. Like being Robin didn’t - "

Her voice catches as he flinches - _damn_ it - and it’s easier to just forge on ahead. 

"I saved you, okay? A lot. I saved _him_. But you acted like I was just some - some hanger on.” Not always. There were times he treated her like a partner, truly and fully. But it never lasted, and maybe that’s the problem. How long will it go this time? 

Her eyes are burning. She could tell herself it’s because she’s exhausted, and hurting, and maybe it would be true.

She refuses to be ashamed.

"Do you have any idea how - how _small_ you could make me feel? Small and stupid and useless.” Just like her father always said she was. “And I just - you were still the best thing in my life, so - “

"Steph." His voice is low and aching, but it’s not the defensive tone she expected. So she waits, staring at him with a desperation she thought long forgotten. She’s still half expecting him to explain - calmly, quietly - that she’s wrong. 

But then she realises his cheeks are wet, beneath the cowl.

"You’re right. He was - I wasn’t fair. If anyone was small and stupid, it was us." He reaches out, tentatively, and it’s a little too easy to grab his hand. "You always deserved this. You always deserved _better_ , than all of it, and I wanted to tell you that so much, when I thought - “

He takes a breath, deep and ragged. “I guess - when you came back, I just kept thinking - what if it happens again, happens for real. But that’s a crappy excuse, and I’m sorry.”

She blinks hard, and manages a little smile. “Yeah?”

"Yeah." He smiles back at her, warm and bright and hopeful, and she remembers falling in love, and learning to love herself. "Can I make it up to you?"

They’ll never recapture what they had. They’ll never be in love again, not like that.

But as she pulls him into a tight embrace, she believes they can be something better.


	21. Justice and Mercy | Helena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena is an empath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way back, there was a tumblr prompt about power AUs. I rambled about [the Batgirls](http://shobogan.tumblr.com/post/100344631040/cassandra-cain-barbara-gordon-stephanie-brown), but Helena got a ficlet.
> 
> Warning for child abuse.

_we can't be oblivious_  
_we are not ignorant_  
_blood in our hearts_  
_blood on our hands_

She’s never sure how she feels about her powers, if they’re a gift or a burden. Empathy is a vexing ability for a killer, and a magnificent aid for a teacher. It depends, she supposes, on which is more important - the Huntress or Ms. Bertinelli.

Her answer varies by the day. By the moment, sometimes.

Tonight, though, her passions are one and the same. She’s protecting her kids and putting the fear of God into some low-lives.

Fear. It’s the emotion she’s most familiar with. She felt it pouring off Antonio every day, red hot, stark as the bruises on his face. The kids call him Ant - he’s small but strong, and snacks tended to go missing in his general vicinity.

He jokes, sometimes, that he’s more of a cricket. He keeps his violin - his mother’s, once, a gift from his aunt - deep in his locker, where it’s safe. When he plays, he feels peace.

There isn’t much she could do directly, officially - she learned that lesson long ago, the hard way. Ms. Bertinelli’s hand are tied.

But the Huntress can slice those bonds with ease.

 _mercy screams its violent love_  
_justice and mercy, justice and mercy_  
_this is where they kiss_

She’s crouched beside a weeping gargoyle, staring down through a dingy window. The boy’s father is a dealer - not high up in the chain, not a target she’d usually spend much time on.

But if he dies, Antonio goes to his aunt, to his mother’s sister. If he dies, Ant can have a home where he’s safe and loved, where his talent is nurtured instead of his hatred. The kind of home all children should have.

There’s a jagged hole in the window, a remnant of the firefight that took Ant’s mother. She can’t see, exactly, where the father is - but she can _feel_ him. Anger and greed, despair and desperation, as he paces amongst his peers.

What sets him apart from the rest, though, is worry. Concern.

She knows it’s because Antonio stayed after school today.

He does love his son, in his way. He wants him to be strong and hard, callous and cruel, because it’s the only way he knows to survive. His wife was good and kind and now she’s gone.

It doesn’t mend Ant’s broken bones, or soothe his roiling stomach.

Huntress aims with aching precision, and fires with ease, and feels it all fade to nothing.

 _with a life on the line (the fire)_  
_that consumes or refines (the fire)_  
_to ascend or decline_  
_to retreat or to climb_  
_will this fire consume or refine?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title and lyric bridges come courtesy of [Flyleaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyNPkL4VdS8).


	22. Grace | Barbara & Helena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Barbara falls, she doesn't expect anyone to catch her.

Once, she could shatter glass without getting a single cut.

She still knows _how_ , of course - what precautions to take, first, and exactly how to move and brace and fall - but her body is different now, and so are her priorities. She didn’t expect to need body armour, and the only thing she thinks as she falls through the skylight is _No, no, Cass needs me_.

She still, instinctively, shields her face; it might be more luck than skill that saves her arteries. But she’s falling, all the same, and there’s nothing but static in her ears. Either her transceiver was damaged in the fight, or -

Barbara closes her eyes and assures herself that Cassandra will be okay, her Birds will find her, and they’ll move on, they’ll keep fighting. She's always known they might lose her, there are safeguards in place.

The last thing she expects is to be caught in armoured arms. Before she can even register the change, she hears Helena’s voice, rough and strained. “Oh, thank God. Don’t you dare leave us, Babs.” 

She keeps her eyes closed, and pretends she didn’t hear.

 

She loses consciousness for real, on the way to the hospital. She was battered and bruised _before_ being thrown through the glass; she only stayed a wake as long as she did through pure stubbornness. 

When Barbara opens her eyes, she’s in a private hospital room, and a surge of bitter dread rockets her up right, almost tearing the IV out of her arm. Not this, not again, no, _not here_ - 

“Barbara.” Huntress’ voice again, as she strides over and puts gloved hands on Barbara’s shoulders. Then, lower, softer, “Oracle.”

Her heartbeat slows, and her breathing evens out. She blinks hard, a few times.

“Cass - “ Her voice is dry and hoarse, and her mouth tastes like blood. Huntress moves just enough to grab her some water. After a few sips, “Where’s Cass? Dinah, Zinda?”

Huntress smiles in a way Barbara has rarely seen, tenderly assuring. “They’re fine. Dinah found Cass, Zinda flew them out. They’re waiting at the tower.”

Barbara closes her eyes as relief threatens to overwhelm her. “And that man I was fighting - “

“Oh, you mean that _world-renowned assassin_? Licking his wounds in a safe house. We’ll get him the second he leaves. By the way, you’re an idiot.”

It makes her laugh, rough and aching. “Noted.” For the first time, she looks at Huntress properly. Her suit is still stained with blood, and her hair is matted to her face. Her eyes are red, her lips are cracked, and there’s a bandage on her cheek.

“How long have you been here?”

Huntress shrugs, almost hiding the grimace it causes; clearly, she hasn’t had most of her injuries seen to. “Few hours. Dinah couldn’t get here.”

 “You’re the one who caught me.”

“You remember that?”

“…Vaguely.” She remembers every second. She remembers how safe she felt in that embrace, despite everything. 

Barbara reaches up, slow and stiff, to grab Helena’s hand and squeeze as hard as she can manage. “Thank you.” 


End file.
